


i'm the desert, you're the shining sea

by pageleaf



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, M/M, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pageleaf/pseuds/pageleaf
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov has been performing for as long as he can remember.(an AU where Viktor isn't quite what he seems)





	

**Author's Note:**

> translation by [llonelysenpaii](http://llonelysenpaii.tumblr.com/) into russian now available [here!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5364103)
> 
> this fic (what i've been referring to as the Secret Asshole fic) was spawned by my deep and immediate distrust of a character as Disney Prince Perfect as viktor seemed, especially in eps 1-3. i'm mostly willing to take his sweetness at face value now, but i still think he's hiding something :)
> 
> NOTE, in case it matters: viktor isn't a BAD person in this fic; he just isn't very nice
> 
> title is from onerepublic's "oh my my" (eta: a _misquoted_ lyric from onerepublics, "oh my my," but in my defense, genius had the wrong lyric at the time!!)
> 
> ETA i forgot to mention i probably would've never thought of this if not for [this American Idol fic by astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/330080) which i read at an impressionable age
> 
> ETA 2: i wanted to note that i don't find this interpretation of viktor to be canon anymore, altho i respect that others have different interpretations!! i think of him as a sweet man with hidden depths, but not mean. i still have fun thinking about this viktor, though

It isn't lying, exactly.

This is what Viktor tells himself when Yuuri kisses him for the first time, sand beneath his feet, sun on his face. Yuuri is uncharacteristically aggressive about it, stands on his tiptoes and presses all the way up against Viktor and opens his mouth into his, hands cold against Viktor's too-warm cheeks.

Waves crash on the shore, or maybe that's just the roaring in Viktor's ears. He feels heat swell up inside of him, heady and consuming, his fists clenching possessively into Yuuri's coat automatically—

—and panics.

So Viktor does what he always does when he panics: he fakes it.

He flattens his palms against Yuuri's back and reins it in, turns the kiss gentle and sweet. And maybe he overdoes it, a little, because Yuuri pulls back with a frown and says, "You don't need to hold back."

Viktor feels a pang of guilt. "Sorry," he says, with a breathless laugh, and kisses Yuuri again. Carefully, he pulls Yuuri a little more firmly against him and deepens the kiss. Still in control, but heated enough to seem like he isn't.

It isn't lying, he tells himself. It's just performing.

 

Viktor Nikiforov has been performing for as long as he can remember. He's sure that at some point he was a normal child, guilelessly cheerful and smiling. But one of his earliest memories is the first time he lost a competition and his aunt congratulated him on coming in second. Viktor had wanted to throw the flowers she gave him on the floor in anger. But instead, he smiled brightly and said, "Thank you very much! I'm very pleased!"

And it must have set a precedent because he just...kept doing it. Because it was easier. Because it was smarter, in a sport where appearance and narrative are everything. Because it kept him in check, when one little tantrum could ruin everything he'd worked so hard for, because he didn't want to be the arrogant youth or the ice prince or—especially not—the aging diva.

It was better, then, to be figure skating legend Viktor Nikiforov, who smiled so bright and loved his dog and was always, _always_ , kind to his fans.

It is always better, being loved.

 

Yuuri thinks that Viktor first noticed him when he saw the video of Yuuri imitating him, but actually, Viktor noticed him years before.

Most skaters, when they're young, are all raw emotion and flexibility, faltering a little in technique. This is true of Yuuri as well, except that he has one thing most skaters his age don't:stamina. It's the first thing about him that catches Viktor's attention, that surprising and admirable ability to put his hardest jump in the last minute of his program, since he was sixteen years old.

The second thing he notices is Yuuri's expressiveness. All skaters must have a little skill in acting, to snatch up those performance points. If they do it well, they can capture audience attention and make them, for a second, _almost_ believe the story the skater is telling.

A common praise is the old cliché that they seem like a "completely different person" on the ice.

Viktor hates that expression.

Maybe it's because he knows the truth—that hardly anyone is truly, completely convincing on the ice; that the cliche is false for 99.9% of people; and that he, as someone who regularly pretends to be a completely different person, should know.

The cliche is true for Yuuri.

Not always, and not as often as he gets older and less brash in his skating. It's clear that the kid struggles with inspiration, because sometimes his performance falls flat. But sometimes—sometimes, when the music starts and he lifts his face to face the crowd, he _transforms_.

And Viktor senses a kindred spirit.

There's one more moment where Viktor can't help but notice Yuuri. It's at the end of the last Grand Prix Final, when Yuuri is standing ten feet away, bundled in his coat, eyes red-rimmed. He's watching Viktor with a wide, awed gaze.

Viktor calls up his most winning smile and offers, "A photo?"

Yuuri looks at him, eyes still wide—and walks away.

That, more than anything, is what sticks in Viktor's memory.

 

Here are the versions of Viktor that people know:

1\. The loving son, known to his parents, his siblings, his dog. This one is mostly true; it's him, just a bit defanged.

2\. The ambitious, driven athlete, known to his coach, his rinkmates. This one is also mostly true, and close to the real thing. Yakov, especially, and maybe Yuri, have seen more of that inner, angry part of him than anyone else. Yuri once told him he gets “scary” when his pride is in danger. Viktor doesn't doubt it.

3\. The benevolent idol, known to his competitors, the media, the judges, and his fans. This one is false. Viktor has never had a magnanimous tendency in his life.

 

Once, when Viktor is twenty-seven, he almost loses his temper. 

Until this point, no one has asked him whether he plans to retire—no one has dared. He's dominated the game since he was sixteen, and shown no signs of slowing down. Sure, there have been whispers, because there are always whispers. But no one has had the gall to voice any of them to his face.

Until now—after Worlds, which Viktor has just _won_. He's sitting in a press conference, sweat still drying in his hair, when one of the reporters calls his name and says, "Viktor, have you begun to think about retirement?"

Viktor, who is in the middle of taking a drink of water, crush the bottle in his fist.

There's a stunned silence in the press room, during which Viktor, fury filling him with an eerie calm, considers throwing the microphone at the reporter's head.

He doesn't.

Everyone in the room is tense, sensing the _wrongness_ in the atmosphere at a subconscious level. And Viktor can't let himself be found out. So instead, he gives a showy pout and—hands still trembling with restrained anger—says, "Was I really so bad?"

The media laughs with relief, and the reporter stammers out an apology.

"Of course I am getting older," Viktor agrees placidly, "but I still have hair on my head, and I can still land a quad, so I will still compete, yes?"

Next to him, Yakov smiles with approval, but Viktor barely sees it. He's still too fucking angry.

That night, he starts formulating a plan.

 

The next morning, when Viktor sees Yuuri skate his routine, his emotions are...complicated.

When someone corners him after his win and says, "One of the Japanese skaters posted a video mimicking your routine!" Viktor's first reaction is a mild curiosity, the same kind a celebrity must feel seeing a young child dressing up as them.

Then Viktor sees who the skater is, and he starts to become suspicious.

**Katsuki Yuuri Tries to Skate Viktor Nikiforov's FS Program "Stay Close to Me"**

As Viktor watches the video, a strange sort of fear grows and tangles around his ribs. Because not only is Yuuri imitating him, not only is he doing it perfectly, he's doing it _better_.

It's transformative. It's captivating. It's surprising.

It's _believable_.

It isn't just that Yuuri can turn himself into someone entirely new while performing. Viktor can do that too. It isn't even that Yuuri is younger and, therefore, probably suits the program better. Viktor has overcome the boundaries of age countless times before.

It's that for the first time, Viktor realizes that the name he's made for himself (the mystique, the confidence, the charm) has betrayed him. Viktor has known from the beginning that this season's short program is entirely distinct from his public persona, too shy, too sweet, too naive. He just never thought it would be a problem.

But now he's watching this twenty-three-year-old skate his own fucking program _better than him_ purely because he's unfettered by the godlike reputation Viktor has built.

Later, Viktor will admit to himself that it's also because Yuuri's motivation is stronger than his own. For now, though, all he feels is frustration. Who the hell is this kid?

But slowly, once the anger cools, Viktor begins to think back to the plan he made last year. There's only so many years a skater has in their body, no matter how skilled. But Viktor has so many years yet to live after the age of thirty, and he _refuses_ to spend them languishing in obscurity.

So his options are twofold:

1\. He becomes a commentator. He can stay relevant this way for decades. However, that requires resigning himself to echoing empty platitudes and tired clichés forever, controlling the narratives of athletes but losing his own.

2\. He becomes a coach. That option...

Viktor replays the video.

Katsuki Yuuri is brimming with potential, reservoirs upon reservoirs of it. His stamina is shocking; his technique (when he doesn't get nervous) is good, especially his spins; his interpretation skills (when they're allowed to shine through) are unparalleled. All he needs is someone to shape him, to take those parentheticals out of the equation.

And if Viktor can make Yuuri a success, make him a winner...then by the time the kid retires, he'll have made enough of a splash that it'll only be a matter of finding another skater to coach—and at that point, they'll be lining up at his door.

Viktor watches the video another five times, and then books a plane ticket.

 

Both Yuris provide complications Viktor doesn't anticipate.

Yurio—a nickname that still makes Viktor light up with amusement—knows him well enough to know that something's up. He corners Viktor the first night he's there to say, “What's going on? You're acting weird.”

Viktor widens his eyes in his best _who, me?_ expression. Yurio squints.

“You've got that sexy Disney prince act going on, and it's bugging me, so stop.”

Viktor laughs, bright and sharp. “Yuri,” he says sweetly, “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm always like this.”

“Yeah, with _other_ people.” Yurio rolls his eyes.

“Yurio!” Viktor says with a gasp. “Do you not think of Yuuri as ‘other people’?”

Yurio turns red, and that's the end of that line of questioning.

Yuuri, however, isn't so easy.

Because Yurio is right, Viktor _is_ amping up the charm. He noticed from the beginning that Yuuri responds well to praise as reward and motivation, and also that on some level, Yuuri still saw him as an idol, not a mentor or friend. Viktor could work with that, but it’d be easier to mold Yuuri how he wanted if the kid would trust him.

So he's been playing up his light-hearted persona (what Yurio has always called the “Disney prince act”) to seem more approachable while still remaining firmly in control. At the same time, Viktor knows that Yuuri is attracted to him. He can use that, too; a bit of sexual tension, even if never acted upon, has already been shown to work wonders on Yuuri’s motivation.

But there's the problem—Viktor's own motivation. From the beginning, this has been about _him_ , and Yuuri’s success has been just incidental. He even considered, briefly, dropping Yuuri and going back to Russia to coach Yurio, before he reasoned that that might make him seem too cold-hearted. Yuuri is sweet, and Viktor enjoys his attention, but he shouldn't matter.

Except.

From the beginning, Viktor has been kind to Yuuri (has touched him, has praised him) for his own ends. Only now, he finds himself wanting to be _sweet_ to Yuuri, for no other reason than to see him smile.

The satisfaction he feels when Yuuri skates his Eros program so excellently isn't pride in a job well done; it's a fire in his gut not unlike lust, but not just that either. Viktor _wants_ him, with a sudden and unexpected intensity, a depth of desire he hasn't felt about anything other than winning since he was a boy.

 

Viktor almost gives in the night of the Onsen on Ice when Yuuri hugs him, breathless and ecstatic, face pressed up into Viktor's neck. His hands clench at Yuuri's hips and he thinks about kissing the breath out of this beautiful boy, of possessing him wholly.

Instead, Viktor clasps Yuuri's face in both hands and says, "You were perfect. Keep doing what I ask, and I'll give you everything you need."

Yuuri turns a gorgeous shade of red, but for once, maintains eye contact. "Yes," he says. "I will."

But he doesn't.

Viktor thought Yuuri would be easy, so eager to please that getting him to listen to Viktor would be effortless. How wrong he was. For the first few weeks, it seems that either Yuuri is doing his best but can't find the right motivation (which means that Viktor _isn't getting through to him_ ) or he isn't even trying. A few times, Yuuri outright disagrees with him, once even snapping at him. Even though he apologizes profusely, Viktor's stuck with a mix of curiosity, anger, and confused arousal.

He knows Yuuri still wants him, and he thought the kid was an open book, but clearly somewhere, Viktor made a misstep, because the next day, Yuuri skips practice, and Viktor doesn't see it coming at all.

Viktor takes a moment to calm down, jaw tight with frustration, before jogging back home, throwing open Yuuri's bedroom door with a slam.

"Let's go to the ocean," Viktor says, smiling winningly.

Time to try a different tactic.

 

This is Viktor's plan:

1\. Flirt a little, get past Yuuri's defenses ("Do you want me to be your boyfriend? I'll do my best.")

2\. Get Yuuri to admit why he won't let Viktor in ("I felt like she was intruding on my feelings, and I hated it.")

3\. Assuage Yuuri's fears, even if he has to lie to do it

The plan almost works; he makes it all the way to step three before it falls apart. Because halfway through Yuuri's confession, Viktor finds himself tilting toward him, completely caught up in him, wanting to do anything to make him smile for real again, and he ends up—despite himself—accidentally being painfully, ardently sincere.

And then Yuuri tells him, "I want you to be who you are," and, "I've always looked up to you," and Viktor feels abruptly sickened. It's been so long since he's felt guilty about anything; he almost doesn't recognize it.

So he promises to not go easy on Yuuri and says, "That's how I'll show my love," and thinks, _Shit_ , because it _isn't_ lying, it actually isn't, he actually means it, oh fuck.

And that's when his whole plan—everything Viktor's been planning since the very beginning—goes to shit.

Because while they're standing on the ocean shore, waves beating the sand, sand squishing in between their toes, Yuuri looks at Viktor and smiles, sudden and radiant, and reaches out, and grabs him, and kisses him.

 

"You don't need to hold back," Yuuri says, and Viktor pretends to listen, ups the tempo, but the back of his mind is still a screaming, panicking mess telling him to _stop, you're ruining everything_ , to _let it go, it's just a kiss, what could it hurt?_ , to _stop fucking thinking and just—give in._. Viktor still can't turn his brain off; he's never learned how.

He regrets it, for a brief, painful moment, as Yuuri whimpers into his mouth and Viktor has to force himself to moan right back.

Yuuri freezes against him.

Slowly, he pulls back, and Viktor tightens his grip around his waist unconsciously (a sign of how frayed his control really is) before letting him go.

"Viktor," Yuuri says, quiet and a little dangerous. "I said you don't need to hold back."

Oh no.

"I—" Viktor says, gasping a little to really sell it. "I wasn't. Yuuri, how could I hold back with you?"

Yuuri purses his lips and narrows his eyes. "Viktor," he says flatly.

Viktor's eyes go wide, and it's only half an act. He would have noticed if Yuuri had figured him out, right? Surely there would've been some kind of sign.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Viktor says, pained, and Yuuri turns away from him.

"If you didn't want to kiss me, just say so." He crosses his arms. "Don't pretend to like it."

 _I did like it_ , Viktor thinks, wanting desperately to take the small, upset frown off of Yuuri's face and good _god_ , what is wrong with him? He's not some lovesick fool; he's got more self-respect than this.

"Yuuri," Viktor snaps, against his better judgment.

Yuuri's attention snaps back to him, mouth parting slightly.

"Oh," he says, sounding a little lost. "I knew it."

Yuuri reaches out and touches two fingers gently, almost absentmindedly, to Viktor's jaw, and Viktor fights back a shiver. How did this get so far out of his control? "I knew something wasn't right."

"What do you mean?" Viktor says, softening his tone, pulling back, deflecting— "Yuuri, are you sure you're not maybe just having second thoughts?"

Yuuri's not listening, staring at him like he's seeing him for the first time. Fuck, maybe he is. "I knew you couldn't be real."

It's like being submerged in ice water. "Yuuri—"

"I'm going to go home," Yuuri says, still in that quiet, lost tone. "You should—you should think about what you're going to do now."

"What?"

"I need to be able to trust you if you're going to be my coach." Yuuri hugs himself tighter. "And I need you to trust me too. If that can't happen...you should leave."

He turns to go, and before Viktor can think, his hand is snapping out to snatch at Yuuri's wrist.

"Wait," he says sharply. "Just...hold on a second, okay?"

Yuuri looks back at him, body entirely still.

 _Fuck it_ , Viktor thinks, and reels him back in for another kiss. He yanks Yuuri against him and holds him steady with a hand spread across his jaw, devouring him—

Yuurii moans, sounding relieved, sounding grateful. He bites Viktor, not very lightly, and the sharp pain at once clears Viktor's head and overwhelms him.

 _I love you_. Viktor means it. It terrifies him.

He opens his mouth, opens his heart, and lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr as pageleaf and twitter as @peakcaps if you need me ♥


End file.
